Smiling to the Light
by HelixForTheStars
Summary: Before the Smiling God, Kevin was someone else. Before he had been the bleeding paper copy that all of Night Vale had seen, Kevin had been a man. A series of onseshots, some angst, some fluff. Past Kevin/Lauren. Beware of gore in Ch 2.
1. Chapter 1

There is nothing.

An infinity of nothing, waves of it rippling and curling through space. An empty void, barren of all but the crushing silence.

And then, there is something. A flash of heat, a gust of sand.

He walks through the desert, trudging through the thick dunes. His shoes are scuffed and filled with sand, feet dragging hopelessly alongside his weary form.

So, so tired.

He's already forgotten why he won't stop, but he still keeps moving slowly through the endless desert. The heat makes his vest and shirt stick to his back, and his hair curls in the sweat on his forehead.

He remembers a time when he would have bowed low before this sun, turning his face up to the smiling rays. But now, as he gazes up, he is only blinded.

Bright.

So very, very bright.

Almost... too bright.

As soon as the thought bursts into his head, his foot catches and he crumples. His knees sink into the burning grains, shaking fingers cradle his throbbing head. He squeezes his eyes shut, in hopes of finally blotting out the terrible light, but it only intensifies into a dull red behind his eyelids.

Red.

 _Red._

He remembers.

 _Her flowing red hair, like a waterfall of fire down her back. He remembers running a thumb over her freckles as her eyelids fluttered closed, a soft smile gracing her face. Cuddling in the back of her truck, talking about the stars. Waking up to the smell of bacon and the sound of her humming along with the radio. Rainy days when they would wrap themselves in blankets and read, legs entwined as they sipped from steaming mugs. He remembers laughter and smiles and being so happy he wanted to write it in the sky._

 _He also remembers the day she left._

 _The day she finally got a job, and how excited she was. How she'd been up early, with a smile that refused to leave her face as she fiddled with her new skirt. How she'd eagerly bounded out to the truck, red hair flickering behind her like a candle. How she'd leaned out the window as she pulled off, waving like a maniac. He'd waved back, grinning fondly at the retreating shape of her car._

 _He remembers the months later, when she'd finally come back._

 _Five months later, when she'd stepped out of the shining black car and clipped up to his door, knocking primly. When her wrapped her in his arms, heart tearing and sobbing about how he missed her and he loved her and please don't leave again. When she'd patted his back, but said nothing. Only smiled a wide, plastic smile._

 _That's when he knew that something was wrong._

 _She slept in her own room now. She always left for work by the time he was awake, and he heard the front door slide open just before he fell asleep. Whenever he did see her, she would give him that sugar coated smile and tell him to believe in a Smiling God._

 _She'd dyed her hair, too. It was a limp, bleached blonde, tied back into a tight ponytail that filled her soft face with sharp angles. Her eyes, once a warm chocolate color, had darkened until they seemed glassy, like coal marbles. One night, he woke up and found her sitting neatly on the couch, staring out the window. He called her name. She turned, in an almost robotic manner, and gave him that chilling smile, before assuring him that everything was alright. They were being watched over by a Smiling God. There was nothing more to worry about. He laid awake most nights after that, staring at the ceiling and praying that he would hear her fixing a cup of coffee, or reading a book, or even sleeping. Just... being alive. After a few more weeks, he became too scared to sleep. Too scared of those empty silences._

 _That was when he realized that she'd never really come home._

He curls up on the carpet of sand, screaming until his throat burned and no sound came out. The sun shone even brighter, slicing through his eyelids and painting the desert with its blinding tongues.

 _He remembers that day. How could he forget?_

 _He remembers how she'd suggested that he come to work with her. Meet her coworkers, her friends, see what she did at the office each day. Get lunch together. It would be fun. He nodded, and allowed himself a tiny sliver of hope. Maybe she was still in there. He remembers how he'd tapped his foot nervously against the floor or the car, while she'd stared straight ahead. Her driving was impeccable. She'd worked with the ease of a computer. When she'd turned and smiled at him, he'd flinched but given a shaky grin. That was all they were anymore. Transparent smiles and hollow laughs. He'd barely remembered what it felt like to really feel joy._

He grabs at his hair, trembling hands frantically trying to block out the sun. Its all he can see now. How could he even think this was a desert? There is nothing to see. Only... light.

 _He can recall little after that moment. Only a haze of blurred memories, as though someone had recorded his thoughts in ink and dipper the page in water. All he remembers is light. It was all around him, as though he were floating in an ocean of it. Floating, unable to control his limbs, only seeing. He remembers watching someone. A man. A man who talked to her. They exchanged seemingly friendly banter that was practically dripping with threats and loathing. They worked together, employee and boss, both disciples of the omnipotent Smiling God._

 _The Smiling God. He remembers embracing that sun, that fire. He was addicted to it, the feeling of being ruled. He left behind his longing, his hope that she would return._

 _He wasn't floating anymore._

 _He was drowning._

* * *

When he finally gains enough of his sanity to open his eyes, he realizes that the sun is gone. The sky is ink, as though someone slathered tar over his eyes. He inhales, taking a lungful of cool air into his bruised lungs. Then... relief. Its as though all of the years, all of the facades and lies are melting off of him like wax from a candle.

He is... free.

And then, he sees them. Like holes in a blanket. The little pinpricks of light, flickering in the sky. Except that this is a different light... a good light. A soft twinkle against the deep velvet sky.

 _What about that? Her fuzzy sweater slides up her arm as the points into the night._

 _Which one? He tilts his head slightly, brows furrowed in thought._

He stands, tremors wracking his legs. And as the last of the sunspots fade from his vision, he looks up.

 _That one's Chara, part of the constellation 'Canes Venatici'. He looks at her, face framed in silken hair and gleaming in the moonlight. In Greek, its name means joy._

 _She beams, tenderly brushing a feather of brown hair from his forehead. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo._

 _I love you._

 _I love you._

I love you.

The moon creeps into the sky, bathing the now chilled desert in its glow. At last, it is night.

Kevin looks up and smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing he registers is that his sight is gone. Granted, he can still see his surroundings, but... his _sight_ is gone. That was his gift, after all. The very thing that defined him and carved his path. The gift of a true storyteller, the one who always knew just a bit more. And now it was gone. It felt like someone had hacked off a limb. He was vulnerable, too weak and helpless. Without his sight... he was nothing.

The next thing he became acutely aware of is his seat. A dentists chair, almost. His wrists and ankles have been handcuffed to thick notches on the chair's sides. He tries to push against them, and nearly screams in agony. His wrists were... burnt. Bubbled, raw burns coating his palms, wrists, and much of his forearms. They were swollen, ensuring that his normally bony wrists were now trapped snuggly in the metal.

"Didn't want to make it too easy on you!" His stomach lurched at the familiar lilting voice. Breath shuddering, he turned his head to look at her.

Those eyes. Fat black orbs, like thick bubbles of ink. They were trained on his face as she smiled at him. His blood froze, terror washing over him. She was hideous, like a spider watching its prey struggle in its web. Then he realized that she wasn't looking at him. Rather, her eyes were fixed on his forehead. Specifically, his eye. His third eye, golden, and unblinking in the center of his forehead. His lighthouse, the beacon of his sight. She reached out, and carefully traced its lid with a sharp fingernail. He swallowed hard, and her smile widened noticeably.

"We cant have you seeing too much, now can we? After all, there is so much to be seen. Far too much. And we here at Strexcorp need you to be focused on more important things!" She pulls a mirror down from above him, and his heart drops. Strange symbols had been drawn into his skin around his eye. The skin was torn and scabbed, as though... as though someone had carved the markings in with a pencil. He bit back a scream. She sat back, leisurely placing a sterile, silver briefcase onto the small table next to them. The clasps flipped effortlessly and the lid swung up, revealing several thin, sharp tools. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of ohgodohgodsharpsharpsharpspidereyesblindsharpsharpdarksharp. Hot tears ran down his pale face, blurring what little vision he had left. Copper flooded his mouth, and realized that he'd bitten through his own tongue.

His ragged breathing faltered for a moment when she pulled out the thread.

"Despite popular belief, Strexcorp isn't perfect! Even we can make little slip ups here and there. And you did put up quite a fight." She leaned forward, smiling. "But of course, the light always wins! This is just a precaution." She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against the spool of coarse thread in her hand, and he felt something inside of him snap.

He flung himself away with a guttural scream, his right ankle's cuff snapping off with a clang. His sight was all he had, it made him everything, it _was_ his everything. His wrists seared, vision swimming with fire. He couldn't be blind, she couldn't leave him alone with the dark and this burning fire.

Then all of a sudden he was frozen again, skin tight and white hot. His mind went blissfully blank. And then he was back down in the chair. She set the taser back onto the table, now a great deal more cautious.

"Well, that was a surprise! But we don't want any more of that. Just sit tight, this will be over in a while!" She smiled down at him, and his heart stopped.

Because this smile wasn't one of her usual artificial smiles.

She smiled, and he saw _her._

 _She smiles when she catches sight of him, silhouetted by the fading sunset, bounding out of the station and up to her truck._

 _She smiles as he holds out the bouquet sheepishly, a fountain of freesia and lilies spilling out into her hands._

 _She smiles when he slips a mug of coffee into her gloved hand, and joins her on the porch as they gaze at the stars._

He didn't even notice when the needle went in. She worked quickly, threading it through the flesh on his forehead with a sharp jerk of her wrist.

 _She smiles as he flicks out the lamp next to their bed before taking her in his arms._

 _She smiles as he dances clumsily to the radio, hips swaying awkwardly._

She pulled the string tightly, cinching the thread and stretching the skin shut. He stares straight ahead, remaining eyes glassy, unseeing.

 _She smiles as he sits down across from her in the quiet_ _restaurant_.

 _She smiles when he pulls out the ring, fumbling for his words._

She rose and started to leave, heels clicking on the floor. He breathed her name, tears slipping down his face. He thought he saw her flinch. But she kept walking, striding out the door and letting it slam behind her.

After a few moments, it hit him. A trail of something hot and wet slid down his forehead and along the bridge of his nose. He wiped it, and stared at the glistening red coating his fingertips in wonder. The walls of the room seemed to close in, darkness filling the corners and creeping towards him. Blood roared in his ears, and fingers of blackness filled his vision.

He cried out, cried her name, screamed until his vision was black and all he heard was a ringing.

* * *

He sat up, startled.

... What?

She looked at him, curious. "Kevin, the weather is almost over, are you alright?"

He rubbed his eyes, smearing fat red droplets off his face. Was he crying? Why would he be crying? The world was such a happy place, ruled by such a happy, Smiling God. What was there to be crying about? "You are ready for the traffic report, aren't you?"

He blinked slowly, and straightened his papers. "Yes, I have all my notes right here."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should let me review them-" She snatched at the pages, but he held them out of reach.

"I'm quite sure I didn't ask for your opinion," he responded sweetly. Her eyes flashed, and there was a moment of silence in the studio. But then, she smiled. A horrifyingly wide, grotesque smile, a smile that dripped with honey and venom and made him grit his teeth.

She smiled, and he smiled back.


End file.
